


A Singular Confession

by captainboise



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainboise/pseuds/captainboise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Holmes brothers share a memory of childhood, one that is embarrassing for Sherlock but heartbreaking for Mycroft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Singular Confession

Sherlock had been reminiscing about his childhood lately, much to his dismay. It was probably the upcoming wedding that had him thinking about family and his dreams of the future, including his childish notion that becoming a pirate would be a solid career move. As he slid Mycroft’s invitation into its addressed envelope (even though he had already decided to deliver it in person), he let his mind drift back into the past. He had vague memories of those times, of just how much he had looked up to Mycroft. His brother had been handsome, smart, and impeccably well mannered, but with just a hint of boyish mischief – enough to come across as charming instead of prudish. Sherlock also remembered Mycroft not being around that much, and the excitement he felt whenever his elder brother could spare some time to play with him. On one rare occasion their parents had gone to visit some friends out of town, leaving Mycroft in charge of his younger brother.

Then Sherlock remembered something else about that day. His ears burned red with the embarrassment of it. He was sure Mycroft remembered, as Mycroft was already well into his teens by that time.

 

\---

 

It was a breezy summer day and they were lazing about on the lawn. Sherlock was catching bugs and categorizing them, an array of jars already assembled off to the side. Mycroft was reading a large legal volume from their parents’ library. He set down the book, yawned and stretched, and a smile lighted his face as he glanced over towards his younger brother. He leapt up suddenly and sprinted over to Sherlock, grabbing him around the waist and wrestling him to the ground. He tickled the boy’s ribs – glad to see the usually serious child incapacitated with fits of laughter. Eventually, Mycroft stopped the tickling assault and offered a hand, helping Sherlock stand back up. As he dusted the lawn clippings off his trouser knees, he heard Sherlock mumble something.

 

“Hmmm?” Mycroft asked automatically, in the way that adults do when only half-listening to a child.

 

“I love you.”

 

Mycroft chuckled. Sentimentality was not something that ran in the Holmes family.

 

“I love you.” Sherlock insisted.

 

Deciding to humor the boy, Mycroft responded, “I love you too. You’re my brother after all.”

 

Sherlock’s expression turned dark. “No, you’re not listening. That’s not what I meant,” his small hands were clenched into fists at his sides and he looked as if he was about to cry, “You know what I meant.”

 

Mycroft was taken aback at how childish his otherwise rational brother was acting. He supposed that it was unfair to expect any child, even Sherlock, to be fully in control of their emotions. But this kind of behavior was more befitting a child half his age. Looking down at his distraught younger brother, Mycroft suddenly realized what was happening and his brain went into a flurry. This was romantic love.

Mycroft bit his lip and took a deep breath. He just needed to take a step back and everything would be fine, “I’m going to go get us some lemonade and we can talk about this more, okay?” he ruffled Sherlock’s hair and quickly turned towards the house.

When he returned, he noticed that Sherlock still had that pained look on his face. Apparently the situation wouldn’t blow over as easily as he had hoped it would. He sat on the grass opposite his brother and handed him a glass of lemonade, which Sherlock quickly set off to the side without breaking his gaze.

Mycroft attempted to diffuse the situation “Well, Sherlock, I know that you may think that you like me in the same way that some of the girls at school do, but love is a complicated thing and there are many different –“ before Mycroft could react, Sherlock had curled into his lap, arms slung around his neck and gripping hard. In the violence of his gesture Sherlock had overturned both glasses, spilling lemonade out onto the grass. He was crying. A few bees began buzzing about lazily, undoubtedly drawn in by the spilt lemonade.

“But you can’t love anyone else. I’m your brother and I love you and you can’t love anyone else,” Sherlock dug his face harder into Mycroft’s chest, “It’s not fair. You can’t...” his voice faded into a hiccupping whimper.

Mycroft patted his back softly with one hand and stroked his hair with the other, “I know this is difficult. When you’re older you’ll understand,” the empty words of generalized reassurance fell out of his mouth flatly. But he had nothing more to say so he continued to sit, wordlessly comforting his brother as best he could.

 

\---

 

Mycroft blinked back into the present. He reassured himself that Sherlock didn’t remember that day. After all, Sherlock had only been nine at the time and it was an isolated incident. His baby brother, in love with him. It was touching but heartbreaking at the same time. He looked back down at the object that had sparked his memory, a wedding invitation for “the union of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mr. John Watson”. Mycroft just hoped that John could give Sherlock what he obviously couldn’t. He smiled at his baby brother and replied “I’d be honored to attend your wedding.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fan fiction I've had the follow-through to post online. Most of the things I write remain as scraps and are never finished. I would love to improve my writing so any critiques/suggestions are more than welcome. I am also not very familiar with punctuating dialogue, so if I slipped up somewhere – probably everywhere – please feel free to let me know. Thank you for reading!


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